Asclepius
by Dr. Dredd
Summary: How far is Carson willing to go to save a patient? COMPLETE
1. Chapter One

"Carson! Sit." Rodney McKay stood next to the control chair with his arms folded, looking tired and irritated. Next to him stood Radek Zelenka, his hair standing up in all different directions.

"I'm not a bloody dog, Rodney!" yelled the doctor back. "And ye don't get to drag me back and forth like I'm on a leash!" Carson Beckett glared at McKay, who rolled his eyes.

"Of course you're not a dog. A dog would be much more adventurous. And that was a very disturbing image, by the way."

Zelenka snickered to himself.

"Rodney, so help me God, if you don't stop..."

"Carson."

"... I'll force feed you a pint of lemonade...

"Carson!"

"And update all of your vaccinations at the same time..."

"CARSON! Just shut up for a minute, will you? You're going to benefit from this, remember? And if you cooperate, I won't tell anyone about the skirt I saw in your quarters."

Beckett looked ready to explode. "It's a kilt, ye gomeril!" He broke into a string of rapidly more unintelligible insults.

"Fine, fine, whatever. Just sit in the damned chair."

"Boys!" broke in a new voice. "If you can't play nicely, I'm going to have to send you to your rooms." Major John Sheppard strolled into the room to see what the yelling was all about.

"Please do," muttered Beckett under his breath.

"Hey! I heard that."

Sheppard raised one eyebrow at Beckett. He was secretly amused at the doctor's vocal attempts to avoid using the control chair. Exasperated, McKay broke in. "We found these..."

"Boxes," Zelenka suggested.

"Cubes, in a room way out in the suburbs. Looks like a smaller version of the infirmary. Sort of like a satellite clinic."

Zelenka took up the thread again. "We think the cubes are medical devices that need to be initialized by the control chair."

McKay finished. "So it would make sense that a doctor should do it!"

Sheppard turned to Beckett. "He's got you there, doc. What is it with you and that chair, anyway?"

"Okay, already!" grumbled Beckett, ignoring the major's question. "On the condition that you LEAVE ME ALONE after that. Preferably forever, but at least for the next day or so."

"Jeez, someone needed decaf this morning," sniped McKay.

Zelenka looked at him blankly. "We still have coffee?"

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Afterwards, as he walked back towards the infirmary, Carson found that his hands were shaking and his heart was pounding. He stopped at one of the ubiquitous balconies and looked out over the water, forcing his breathing to slow. He refused to let anyone see how upset each session with the chair made him, and instead let the others make good natured fun of him.

Carson was never able to explain his antipathy to the Ancient device. It had started during his time at the Antarctic outpost, when he'd almost killed Major Sheppard and General O'Neill. He'd reclined in the chair and felt the machinery come alive around him. Almost immediately, he felt a presence in his mind, one that hadn't been there during his previous (albeit brief) uses.

Startled, he'd tried to force the presence out of his mind. That's when the drone came to life and started blasting things. He'd never flown an aircraft, but had previously treated Air Force pilots. They said that flying a fighter jet was like sitting on a missile. You had barely controlled power at your fingertips and the capability of instant destruction. Carson imagined it felt something like the control chair.

What Carson would never admit even to a priest or Kate Heightmeyer was that he'd enjoyed the feeling of power once he got over the initial shock. Part of him reveled in the chaos he'd caused both underground and in the skies over the base. It was only when Sheppard berated him for carelessness that he realized people had almost died. Every time he sat in the chair after that he imagined that seductive power of destruction taking him over again. Needless to say, he tried to avoid it whenever possible.

Things were worse after the mission to Hoff. He'd experimented on a prisoner to create a drug that went on to kill millions. He'd opposed it, but allowed himself to be persuaded by Perna because the Wraith was going to die anyway. Now he had to live with every agonizing death the drug had caused, as well as the knowledge that the Wraith would probably wipe out the rest of the planet after learning of the poison.

Carson had realized that there was a darkness in his soul. In this he was no different from the rest of humanity, but he'd seen the consequences and it terrified him. He thought he had started to put the events on Hoff behind him, but today's session initializing the cubes had reopened the wound.

Carson closed his eyes and began to recite. "I swear by Apollo the physician, by Asclepius, Hygeia, and Panacea, to keep according to my ability and my judgement, the following Oath. To please no one will I prescribe a deadly drug nor give advice which may cause his death." As he finished the Hippocratic Oath, he finally felt himself begin to relax.


	2. Chapter Two

Wow! Thank you all for the great feedback. I'm glad to know people are enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

And now, without further ado...

(Note: this takes place shortly after "Poisoning the Well" and before "The Storm")

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Elizabeth Weir found Carson leaning against the balcony, staring morosely into the distance. Frankly, she'd been worried about him. Since his return from Hoff, he'd become irritable and withdrawn. Unless feeling deathly ill, crewmembers were dealing with minor ailments on their own rather than listen to him snap.

She stepped up next to him, and for a moment the two of them stood in silence as they thought. Then Elizabeth asked softly, "Carson, are you all right?"

Although she expected him to snap at her, too, he merely sighed and gave her a sad smile. "Aye, lass. Just doing a wee bit of brooding."

"I haven't really had a chance to talk to you. I'm so sorry about what happened."

"I appreciate that, love. I guess it's just going to take time." At a look from her, he smiled wryly. "Have I been that bad?"

She laughed. "Let's just say that even Rodney quit whining and sucked it up."

Carson grinned and gave a look of mock horror. "Then something must really be wrong with him!"

Elizabeth put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "I mean it. If you want to talk..."

"UNSCHEDULED INCOMING WORMHOLE!" blared the loudspeaker. "MEDICAL TEAM TO THE GATEROOM!"

They both looked at each other and started to run.

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The sight in the gateroom was unfortunately familiar. A puddlejumper sat in front of the deactivated gate and two battered-looking crewmembers leaned against it. Two Athosians sat nearby, one with blood dripping down his arm. Overseeing the whole scene was Michelle Donohue, one of the most skilled nurse practitioners Atlantis had.

"What have we got this time, lass?" asked Carson after he'd quickly surveyed the scene.

"Actually, it's not as bad as it looks. Stackhouse and Wagner bruised about six ribs between the two of them, and Wagner won't be walking on his left ankle anytime soon. Leeta seems okay, but Jono over there has a nasty gash on his left arm." She paused as paramedics wheeled a gurney past them. "And poor Lieutenant Ford got himself whumped again."

Carson hid a grin. He'd suspected that Michelle had a crush on the handsome young lieutenant, but this confirmed it. How did Major Sheppard put it? "Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be back to 'pretty boy' in no time."

Michelle blushed. "It looks like they were negotiating a trade agreement on M4X 995 when some of the local wildlife got frisky. From what Wagner was saying, it was a medium-sized wildcat. But I'm sure by the time the story gets around, it'll be a sabertooth tiger."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "All right, let's get started. It'll take awhile as it is."

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"Ow!"

"Hold still, Aiden."

Ford's voice was muffled under the sterile drape that covered half his face. "Can't you just use some funky Ancient device on it?"

"This isn't the movies! I canna just wave my hands and make your cut disappear!" Ford had a bugger of a shiner by his left eye and a small but bloody laceration above the eyebrow. Carson put in one last stitch and taped a gauze pad over it. "There, that's done... Where do you think you're going?"

Ford looked sheepish. "I guess 'back to my quarters' is the wrong answer."

"Gold star, son. I want you here tonight in case you have a concussion. Michelle's on duty -- she'll look after you tonight." He noticed that Ford looked considerably less upset after that. Shaking his head, he walked into his office. "If I didn't know better, I'd take it personally that everyone wants to get the hell out of here all the time," he thought.

A pile of medical charts sat on his desk, and next to them were the cubes he had initialized earlier. There were four of them, each about an inch tall and dull gray in color. A note next to them in McKay's scrawl read, "Dr. Kusanagi and I both couldn't do anything with them. Your turn to figure it out."

Well, he didn't have time for them now. Carson pulled the first chart towards him. It was Wagner's. He read Michelle's thorough notes with approval and signed off on them. The next one was the Athosian Leeta's, and was more complicated. Carson felt that he had a basic knowledge of Athosian biology, but he still wasn't entirely confident about treating them.

Take this next chart. It belonged to Jinto, the energetic Athosian lad who made a habit of getting into scrapes. Carson was baffled by this particular episode, though. Halling had brought his son when the boy complained of fatigue and abdominal pain. Carson had developed a list of normal laboratory values based on tests of all the Athosians, and Jinto's were just slightly off. Not enough to suggest any specific diagnoses.

Absently, Carson picked up one of the cubes and rolled it around in his palm. He didn't notice the faint blue glow that surrounded it at his touch, and soon dropped it back on the pile. He had a sudden thought, and quickly leafed through Jinto's chart. With a burst of satisfaction, he realized that he had an answer to the boy's problem. The symptoms didn't exactly match, but Carson saw that they very closely resembled a relatively uncommon infection of the digestive system. It would require several weeks of antibiotics, but Jinto should be completely fine after that. Carson made a quick note to contact Halling the next morning, and closed the chart.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Not a bad day of work at all. With a start, he realized that he was hungry. He hadn't had much of an appetite recently, but he was suddenly starved.


	3. Chapter Three

I forgot to mention this earlier: I don't own any of the Atlantis characters. Not a one. Too bad, though. Michelle Donohue is mine, however

Again, thanks to all for the reviews. Keep 'em coming!

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The mess hall was almost empty when he arrived. Carson was surprised to realize how late it was. Fortunately, the kitchen was always open for late-working personnel. He poked around the storage areas until he had assembled a meal that looked mostly edible.

Carson sat down at one of the tables, returning scattered greetings from some of the scientists. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the last meal he'd shared with his parents. Fried eggs, bangers, freshly squeezed orange juice. Cholesterol galore, but worth it!

He laughed to himself as he thought about the fuss Rodney would make, particularly over the last item. Although the annoying little bugger often drove him crazy, Carson considered Rodney a friend and would truly enjoy showing him his home. That is, as long as he didn't have to put up with Rodney on a reciprocal trans-Canadian trip.

"Doc, you all right?" Carson jumped, realizing he'd almost dozed off into his soup. Major Sheppard was standing there, watching him with his usual grin but with concern in his eyes.

"Aye. But 'eat versus sleep' has become a moral dilemma."

"Well, don't think too hard. Looks like 'eat' won." Then the major wandered off to grab his own snack. True enough, Carson saw as he looked down. He'd eaten everything else besides the soup without even realizing it. Must have been hungrier than he thought.

He stood, stretched, and went back to his quarters next to the infirmary. He was asleep almost instantly.

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Carson could hear Ford complaining even before entering the infirmary the next morning. The lad was learning way too many lessons from Sheppard, who had pulled some Houdini-like stunts to avoid Carson's hospitality.

He was in a much better mood today. Smiling, Carson walked in. "Morning, Michelle! Anything interesting happening around here?"

She rolled her eyes tiredly. "Not unless you count his whining." she said, jerking her thumb at Ford who put on his best innocent expression.

Carson shook his head and turned to examine Ford's injury. The sutures were holding and there was no evidence of infection. He checked Ford's pupils and found them fully reactive. "All right, get out of here. Now yer just taking up space. Come back with any headache or dizziness!" he added quickly as Ford jumped up. Then he got a good look at Michelle. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine, thanks. Just a little worn out."

"Well, go get some sleep. I can manage here -- it's not that busy."

She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Ford returned, and the two of them walked out at the same time. As they passed out of earshot, Carson heard. "Seriously, Donohue, you should come to the movie night. It's fun." Ah well, it was an ill wind that didn't blow at least some good, his grandma always used to say.

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Arriving barely in time for the weekly department head meeting, Carson slipped into the empty seat between Teyla and Bates. He suspected that if all the seats had been taken, either of them would have preferred to remain standing rather than sit next to the other. There was almost certainly going to be trouble between those two at some point.

Elizabeth arrived just then, and the meeting began with Bates's terse recitation of findings from his security patrols. McKay was next. "With the enthusiastic but occasionally clumsy assistance of Drs. Zelenka and Kusanagi, I think we've figured out another one of the Ancient devices. Unfortunately, it seems to be their version of a garage door opener. And Carson, with his excellent chairside manner that we've all come to love, has graciously helped begin the study of some small, gray cubes we found."

Carson made a mental note to move up Rodney's next scheduled checkup.

Elizabeth turned to him. "Found out anything?"

"Not really." he glared at McKay. "I've been too busy putting all the king's horses and men back together again."

"Mixed metaphors, Carson!" McKay smirked. "Humpty Dumpty was the one who got patched up. Only in his case, not so much."

Sheppard broke in. "Jeez, McKay, give it a rest already! We know you're brilliant, no one else can even come close, so just chill."

Carson fixed an icy blue-eyed gaze on McKay. "Thank you, Major Sheppard. As I was going to say, the members of yesterday's expedition are fine. But we are getting a little low on some of the medical supplies. We're almost out of topical antibiotics and anesthetics. I've been trying to hold off using systemic antibiotics, but they won't last that long either."

Elizabeth looked concerned. "Have you found anything in the city that you can use?"

"I don't know. We're testing some of the plants we found on M1-wherever-it-was, but it'll take awhile before we get any results."

Teyla spoke up. "Some of my people on the mainland are well-versed in what you call herbal medicine. As their liaison, I'm sure I could arrange for one of them to assist Dr. Beckett."

"Good." said Elizabeth. "Major, how are we on food supplies?"

"We definitely could use more grains and fresh vegetables. And I don't know about anyone else, but I'd really love a burger."

McKay looked disgusted. "You just had to say that, didn't you. Now I'm hungry again."

The meeting lasted half an hour longer. Finally, Elizabeth wrapped up. "All right. Sounds like we need a trip to the mainland. Teyla, you and Carson can talk to the Athosian elders. Major, I'd like you and Lieutenant Ford to arrange for food deliveries and find out from the Athosians what they might need from the city. Rodney... just behave yourself." She stood. "Unless anyone has anything else to add, I think we can call it a day."

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The puddlejumper flew over the ocean on its way back to Atlantis. Sheppard and Ford were in the front, discussing something about the uncivilized sport of football. Carson and Teyla sat in front of several boxes of fresh and dried herbs. As they catalogued them, Carson idly fingered one of the cubes he'd brought with him.

"I think we can use all of these except the purple ones in the fourth box." Teyla said. "None of my people recognized that one, so we don't know what effects it might have on people from your world."

"Sure. And I've not seen the like on Earth, either Wonder what 'tis."

This time Carson saw a brief flash behind his eyelids. As he yelped, he suddenly knew that the purple herb was like aloe and would soothe minor burns or rashes. He opened his eyes again to find Teyla staring at the cube. "It was glowing!" she said.

This was like the last time he fiddled with a cube, Carson realized. He could accept that he'd made an intuitive diagnosis of Jinto's problem, but there was no way he could have known the function of the purple herb. The knowledge had to come from the cube in some way. And like the last time, he suddenly felt tired and hungry.

"What the bloody hell was that!" he whispered as Ford and Sheppard turned to look at them curiously. He definitely needed to talk to McKay or Zalenka about where they'd found the things.

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Carson headed back to the infirmary when they landed. He'd left Dr. Kusanagi in charge, and although he knew that she was a capable physician and surgeon, he wanted to personally make sure that everything was under control. One of the other nurses was on duty when he entered. The man looked relieved to see him. "Dr. Beckett, someone just came in to see you. She's in Exam Room 1. It's Michelle, sir."

That was all Carson needed to hear. He was in the room before the nurse had time to say anything else. "Hello, Michelle." he said, schooling his voice to be confident but gentle. "I did nae think you seemed well this morning. What's wrong?"

She looked scared. "Carson, I found a lump."

TBC

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Yeah, yeah. I'm evil. What can I say:-)


	4. Chapter Four

Apologies for the delay, but to make up for it this installment is a little longer than previous ones. And you get to learn more about the cubes!

With apologies to Monty Python and Gary Larson (you'll see what I mean)

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Carson palpated the small mass above Michelle's collarbone, first gently and then more firmly. "That hurt, love?"

"No, it doesn't really hurt at all." she said.

"Any fevers? Night sweats?" She nodded yes to both. "You said you were tired. How about your appetite?"

"I haven't really been hungry for a while, now that I look back. And I've lost about 10 pounds. I thought it was just stress."

With a growing sense of unease, Carson began examining other lymph node groups. His hands were practiced and skillful. Several nodes were enlarged in the neck region and under her arms. Michelle hissed in pain when Carson pressed on the left side of her abdomen. "Sorry," he said softly, putting a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. In truth, though, he was becoming increasingly worried, since he had noted an enlarged and tender spleen. He readied a syringe as she sat up on the exam table.

"We'll get some bloodwork," Carson said as he tied a rubber tourniquet around Michelle's upper arm and drew several tubes. "You can get dressed after that, and I'll meet you in my office." As Carson walked out of the exam room, he caught sight of the nurse he'd spoken to earlier. He handed the tubes of blood to the man and said, "Send this for the routine stuff. And add on an LDH and a leukocyte alkaline phosphatase level." Avoiding the questions in the nurse's eyes, Carson then stepped into his office at the rear of the infirmary.

As usual, the desk was a mess, with papers piled everywhere. There were journal articles on topics ranging from genetics to emergency medicine. He had been out of date on some things, never dreaming he would need to run an entire medical unit millions of light years from home.

His diploma from the Edinburgh Faculty of Medicine hung on one wall, near some amateur photos he'd taken of his hometown and friends and family. On another wall was a framed Monty Python quote that he found ironically appropriate for a mission in another galaxy. "So remember when you're feeling very small and insecure/ How amazingly unlikely is your birth/ And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space / 'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth." Somehow he doubted that Eric Idle had had the Wraith in mind.

Carson sighed as a knock sounded at the door. "Come in. Have a seat if you can find one in this clutter."

Michelle entered and sat in front of his desk. As Carson tried to organize his thoughts, she said emotionlessly. "Carson. Lymphadenopathy, splenomegaly, 'B' symptoms. You know that can't be good."

His compassionate eyes met hers. "Let's not jump to conclusions too quickly. We'll see what the labs show, and I'll arrange for you to get the Ancient equivalent of a CT scan today. And of course we'll need to biopsy that mass. I know you're thinking malignancy. But there are other things it can be."

Carson stood and helped Michelle to her feet. "Get the scan, and then go get some more rest. We'll probably do the biopsy tomorrow, so don't eat anything after midnight. And, as hard as it may seem, try not to worry too much."

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The next morning, Carson went to find Dr. Zelenka in his lab. Half-disassembled pieces of equipment were everywhere. Of Zelenka himself there was no sign, except for two disembodied feet sticking out from under a machine that looked like a cross between a refrigerator and a nuclear reactor. "Radek?" he called. Nothing. Clearing his throat, Carson tried again, a little louder. "Radek?"

When Zelenka still didn't answer, Carson gingerly tapped one of the protruding feet. This time the response was impressive. Carson winced as he heard a loud thump and irritated Czech swearing. The feet moved as their owner slowly pulled himself out.

"Kurva drát! Who? Oh, Carson I see. Obviously it not enough for you to perform on me weird medical procedures, make me human porcupine. Now you try to kill me, too. If not from head injury, then from heart attack. I'm going to - how you say - call my lawyer."

Carson leaned over. "There's not even a bump, ye big baby. And all the tests I've done have been perfectly routine."

"So it was necessary for you to stick that thing up my nose? And ... wait, wait, wait, you not changing the subject so quickly. You made me smack my head, then call me a baby. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I need your help, son. I need you to show me where you found those cubes."

Zelenka continued to grumble, but his expression brightened. "Do you know what they are?"

"Not really, but I have a few ideas. If I can see where you found them, it might help."

Zelenka looked at his machine, then sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Give me about 30 minutes, okay? Otherwise there's a teeny tiny chance this could explode."

Carson slapped Zalenka on the back. "Thank ye, Radek. And just for that, I won't tell Dr. Weir you're building a still."

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After about a mile, Zelenka indicated that they had reached the site. Major Sheppard, who had insisted on coming when he heard the two scientists would be exploring, looked bored. Carson had overheard him ask Elizabeth if she wanted to bet on who came back injured this time, so he knew the Major wasn't there for scientific curiosity. Personally, given the amount of time he spent in the infirmary, Carson thought that Sheppard himself was equally as likely to come to grief.

They stepped into a large, high-ceilinged room. A row of sensors was mounted along one wall. Carson thought he recognized indicators for heart rate and respiratory rate, but couldn't determine a purpose for the others. A group of chairs was located under the windows close to the entrance. A waiting area, maybe? The place definitely had the look of a clinic or an urgent care center. There was even something that could be called a nurse's station, with a computer terminal and monitoring equipment.

Zelenka pointed to a force field-covered depression next to the computer terminal. "We found the cubes in there. I could not reach them, but Rodney was able to deactivate the field with his ATA gene. We took some of the cubes and left the rest in place."

Carson experimentally reached out his hand and the field flickered out. As it did, he saw that Ancient writing covered the depression in which two cubes remained. "Now what does that say?"

Sheppard walked over to take a look. "As far as I can tell, it says something like 'In case of emergency'." At Carson's and Zelenka's surprised looks, he shrugged. "Thought it might be fun to learn some Ancient."

"Tell us again what you experienced with the cubes." Zelenka broke in.

"Now that I think about it, the first time was a few days ago. I was doing paperwork and listening to Lieutenant Ford whine about being cooped up in the infirmary. Incidentally, Major, can you please stop setting bad examples for the rest of your crew? Anyway, I was thinking about Jinto -- he'd presented with strange symptoms -- and I was fiddling with one of the cubes. I didna think of it until now, but that was when the answer to that puzzle just hit me."

"And the other time, doc?" This from Sheppard.

"That was on the way back from the mainland. I was wondering what a certain plant was, and then I just knew. Both times, I got very hungry and tired immediately afterward."

"But nothing happened when McKay touched it." stated Sheppard.

"No," said Zelenka. "Even Dr. K. only made it flicker."

"Why don't you give it a go, Major?" suggested Carson.

"Me?"

"Yeah. Just think of a medical question."

Sheppard shrugged again and picked up a cube. He closed his eyes and the cube glowed bright blue for a moment. "Nothing," he said eventually.

"What did you want to know?" asked Zelenka.

"Um, I wanted to know the name of the little thing that hangs down in the back of your throat." Carson looked disgusted. "What? It's a legitimate question."

"We really need to start some basic medical training for personnel," muttered Carson.

"Try Dr. K. again," said Zelenka. "Maybe she wasn't thinking of a question or puzzle at the time she picked it up. It probably needs someone with at least some medical knowledge."

As if by consensus, the three men walked towards the door. Zelenka told Carson that he would run some diagnostics on a cube. "This time, though, I'll call you with the results.," he said firmly, rubbing the back of his head.

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As luck would have it, Helen Kusanagi was the first person Carson met when he returned to the infirmary. But the cubes quickly became the last thing on his mind when she told him that she had just completed Michelle's biopsy. She assured him that Michelle was resting comfortably and that Dr. Biro was reading the pathology slides.

With a feeling of dread, Carson sought out the pathologist. He looked through the open door into her office. "Carol..." he said, his voice trailing off. The look on her face told him all he needed to know.

"Oh, crap."


	5. Chapter Five

"Cancer?" Elizabeth asked incredulously. They were in her office, with the door closed for privacy.

"Non-Hodgkins lymphoma, to be exact. Stage IV, which is bad."

"Oh, God. Can you treat it?"

Carson looked bitter. "Aye, back on Earth. Well, not me personally. I've got friends at the Karolinska and Memorial-Sloan Kettering who are oncologists. I never liked oncology. Too damned depressing." He stopped for a minute, and put his head into his hands. "Yes, on Earth it's eminently treatable. We'd give something like 6 cycles of CHOP and XRT. Probably one of the monoclonal antibodies too, rituximab if I'm not mistaken..."

Elizabeth gently interrupted him as he prepared to give a dissertation, and pretended not to see the tears in his eyes. "Carson, I'm not an M.D. Can you translate that?"

When Carson was upset, his brogue tended to thicken. "Och, sorry about that. XRT is radiation therapy. CHOP is a treatment regimen of four drugs: cyclophosphamide, hydroxydaunorubicin, oncovin, and prednisone. This is notable mainly for the fact that we only have one of the four. We never even thought to bring any chemotherapy agents with us. Stupid!"

"Not your fault." Elizabeth chewed her lip thoughtfully. "You know, I bet Rodney could whip up some sort of generator for the radiation."

"That is an interesting idea. We've got plenty of prednisone, mostly because of Rodney's allergies. Between that and the radiation, we may be able to slow it down. But in the long term... I think she's in trouble."

"Does she know yet?" asked Elizabeth.

Carson looked haunted and shook his head mutely.

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When he returned to the infirmary, Carson found Ford visiting Michelle. A privacy curtain surrounded her bed, but he could hear Ford's teasing and Michelle's answering laughter. Putting on a smile he didn't feel, Carson theatrically cleared his throat. "Are you two decent in there, or should I come back later?"

Ford pulled the curtain back and grinned. "Nothing going on here, doc. Nothing at all."

Carson slapped Ford on the back and gave him a slight push towards the exit. "All right, Romeo, I'm going to kick you out for awhile. Ye can come back and cause more trouble later."

As Ford walked past Carson, he whispered, "She gonna be all right?"

"I hope so, son." the doctor replied. Then he returned to Michelle's cubicle and sat down on the bed. He'd decided a long time ago that the best way he could deliver bad news was briefly and directly, taking cues from the patient as to how much detail to give. This was the first time he'd had to do this to a friend, though.

"I'm afraid you were right." Carson said gently. "The pathology came back as lymphoma. Your scan confirmed the enlarged spleen and showed scattered enlarged lymph nodes in your abdomen.

Michelle sighed. "I knew it was going to be something like this. When it's this serious, your body just seems to know. What do we do now?" She knew as well as he did that their drug supply was limited.

She certainly seemed to be taking this well. "Of the initial regimen, we only brought prednisone, so we'll start that immediately. We'll also start irradiating the affected lymph nodes.

She nodded. "Okay, so I guess I can expect to start gaining weight and bruising easily. That doesn't sound so bad."

"Um, right. And I'll of course search the Ancient database to see if I can find any treatment data in there." As they talked, Carson began to worry that she was taking this a little too well. She discussed her condition with clinical detachment, like it was an interesting case presentation. Carson finally stopped. "I know this is a lot to absorb at once, so feel free to come talk to me at any time. Look... are you okay?"

Michelle looked away. "Not really." she whispered. "But I won't be able to function if I think about it too much. Carson, just promise me that you won't treat me any differently. I want to keep working as long as I can, and try to keep things at least close to normal."

"Of course! You should absolutely keep working. And we'll help you get through this, I promise."

Michelle smiled faintly. "I know you will. Thank you."

He stood up. "All right, lass. I don't think you need to stay here any longer. But I want to see you in here again tomorrow afternoon. You've got the swing shift. And I mean it, my door is always open."

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Carson was pleasantly surprised when McKay gave only a token protest before adapting a naquadah generator for radiation therapy. Truth be told, everyone just liked Michelle. She'd cared for them all at one time or another, from Ford's encounter with the energy creature to Sheppard's mutant alien tick bite. It being a relatively small community, bad news traveled fast, and everyone wanted to see what they could do to help.

Michelle responded satisfactorily to treatment, but Carson wasn't completely happy with the results. In the meantime, he'd made little progress in finding alternate treatments. The cubes had provided some data, but not enough. He and Zelenka were beginning to think of them as a mini medical library, but he hadn't completely figured out how to retrieve information. And each time he tried, the attempt left him exhausted and hungry.

That was how Carson had found himself standing outside the chair room several weeks later. Aside from blowing things up, the chair could also be a useful analytic tool. McKay had explained how the process worked, and Carson now understood it. He hoped.

Both McKay and Zelenka were in the room. McKay was wearing his flak jacket. "Oh, that's funny," Carson said as he rolled his eyes.

"Just a precaution. Isn't that what you're always saying? Right before you threaten to sedate my ass to keep me in your clutches?"

Carson smiled sweetly. "Rodney. Trust me lad. You don't want to get me upset right now. I might just lose my concentration, and there are lots of things around here that could break. Like you." Then he sat down and put his arms on the armrests. Almost immediately, he felt the chair tilt back and machinery come to life around him. That was unusual. Normally it took him several minutes of concentration before it reluctantly started up.

Carson closed his eyes and became part of the machine. He couldn't explain how, exactly. He was aware of himself, but at the same time was aware of all parts of the city like they were parts of his own body. Every function of the city was under his complete control, and he could create or destroy things with a thought. It was a power over life or death that he didn't want to wield.

Enough. A friend's life depended on him. He directed his/Atlantis's awareness towards the information database and sought the particular memory symbols that he'd learned meant medical. He/the city sifted through all the information to find data on the function and workings of the cubes, keeping firm control so as not to lose himself among fascinating but irrelevant details.

There, that did it. Carson pulled his mind out of the interface far enough to say to the two other scientists, "This is what I could find about the buggers. I've put the info in a separate file in the mainframe." He noticed that McKay and Zelenka were staring at him in evident surprise, but he couldn't waste the time to find out why. The next part of his task was going to be harder.

This time, when Carson let himself fall back into the human/chair meld, he focused his/its attention on an actual cube, which Zelenka had placed into a receptacle in the wall. He looked at it with senses beyond his own five, and noted the minute circuitry that responded to the user's thoughts. There were other circuits, too, which appeared to access the part of the database he'd just left.

Carson then attempted to access the cube with one part of his augmented awareness, while analyzing the interaction with the city's main computing power. The last thing he remembered was a bright flash and blinding pain, then nothing.

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When he regained consciousness, Carson found himself sitting on the floor next to the chair, leaning against a wall. He blinked, not remembering how he'd gotten there.

Looking concerned, McKay crouched down in front of him. "Sweet Jesus, Carson, whatever you did, don't do it again! Are you all right?"

Memory came back. "What was that? It felt like a red hot bloody poker being driven right into my eye!"

Zelenka stepped into his field of vision. "We should get you to the infirmary," he said firmly.

Carson slowly stood up and protested. "I don't need that. I'll just lie down for a wee bit, then get back to work."

The acerbic McKay replaced the concerned McKay. "Oh, the irony. Not a chance, Dr. Kildare! If you're going to drag me to the infirmary every time some piece of Ancient technology overloads, you're going to have to go, too!"

Zelenka smirked. "Rodney, you have to admit that last time wasn't just an overload. Half of your lab vanished."

"Not helpful, Zelenka." The two of them stood to either side of the Scotsman and began to walk towards the infirmary. "Keep moving," said Rodney when Carson tried once more to escape.

Carson sighed and surrendered to the inevitable. Even so, he knew he was never going to hear the end of this.

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TBC


	6. Chapter Six

Carson figured he'd had it coming. Once the duty physician had gotten over his near-panic at treating the boss, he politely but firmly laid down the law. He'd made Carson change into a pair of those ridiculous red scrubs and submit to a physical, all the while ignoring his repeated complaints. Finally, exasperated, the younger physician had said, "Dr. Beckett, if you don't cooperate I'm going to call security" and fixed him with a glare that would have intimidated even General O'Neill.

Carson recognized his own words and subsided. "Attila the bloody Hun," he muttered.

"What was that, Carson?" asked McKay as he stepped around the privacy curtain. "Bedside manner problem?"

"Rodney..." Carson said warningly.

"Right. How are you feeling after fain..."

"Not. One. More. Word." said Carson through gritted teeth.

McKay relented. "Allright, I'm sorry. What's going on? You bit my head off, Zelenka's, Dr. Whats-his-name's over there. Who're you going for next? Bates? He'll kick your ass."

Carson couldn't help but smile at that. "He wouldn't. Even the redoubtable Sergeant Bates needs medical clearance to go through the gate."

McKay cast a critical eye on his friend. Carson had lost weight and looked like he hadn't slept in days. There were dark shadows under his eyes, he had the beginnings of a beard, and his hair looked like a cross between Sheppard's and Zelenka's on a bad day.

"Are you okay? You look like hell." McKay said frankly.

Carson snorted. "Ever the soul of tact, Rodney." He was silent for a moment, then burst out. "I hate feeling helpless like this! We're really running low on medical supplies, and I'm responsible not just for the lot of you, but the Athosians, too. Half the time I feel like I don't even know what I'm doin'! Alien bugs? Wraith? My God, this wasn't covered in any class I ever took." His voice suddenly became very soft. "And I have to watch as a good friend and colleague slowly dies of something that I could have treated at home, if not cured."

McKay looked sad. "She's getting worse?"

"I should'na have said anything. Keep this under your hat, lad."

"There's nothing in the database? What about your medical Magic 8 ball?"

"You mean the one that almost fried my brain? Sure, it tells me what I can do if I had all of Earth's resources at my disposal. I was crazy to think that I could just wave my hands, mix two alien plants together, and come up with a cure for cancer." Carson said bitterly.

In some ways, this was better, though. So soon after Hoff, he didn't think that he could have dealt with trying an experimental drug on a patient. In retrospect, how could he have been so cavalier about the gene therapy?

"Well. Elizabeth's about to brief us on yet another trading mission for food. We should also see if we can trade for medical supplies and knowledge."

One of the nurses appeared just then. "Dr. Beckett, they're ready for you in the scanner."

"I should be goin' to that briefing!" Carson growled.

McKay stood up. "Be good, Beckett." he said chidingly. "Are they going to let you loose after that?"

"Nae. I'm here for the night. 'Observation'."

"Good. Maybe now you'll actually sleep." And McKay left, saying something under his breath about payback and female dogs.

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Zelenka peered over the tops of his glasses at Carson. He'd called almost as soon as Carson had been discharged from the infirmary with a warning of dire consequences if he didn't rest and eat. McKay figured that the duty physician had taken a Valium as soon as the Chief Medical Officer was out of sight.

"Do you know how lucky you are?" Zalenka asked as they stood around a bench in his lab. "You could have been left with brains of turnip."

"Or Kavanagh."

"Rodney!"

"Sorry."

Zelenka cleared his throat and continued. "As I was saying, you were almost grilled bread."

"Toast," whispered McKay.

Zelenka pointed down at one of the cubes. "It seems they work by connecting your brain to the medical database. By using one part of the computer for analysis of the cubes while connected by the cubes to a different part of the computer..."

"... you set up a positive feedback loop..."

"If we hadn't broken your connection to the chair, poof!" finished Zelenka.

"Poof!"

"I'm sorry, Rodney, that I cannot come up with more scientific word. You know what I mean.."

"An engineer needs to be more precise than 'poof', Radek!"

"We're not exactly presenting at a conference..." Zelenka stopped. "Where's Carson?"

He was sitting on a stool behind them with his head down on the lab bench. Without opening his eyes, he said, "I'll be over here when yer finished."

Zelenka and McKay looked at each other over Carson's head. They'd never seen him look so drained. "Ah, you want we should do this later?" Zelenka asked.

Carson picked his head up, his normally electric blue eyes dulled with fatigue. "Please, just get on with it."

"There isn't much more to tell. We're still not sure where the cube draws its power from, but I'll keep working on it," said Zelenka. "One thing, though. If I didn't know better, I'd think that it was actually Major Sheppard in the chair yesterday doing your work. You've never used it that easily."

"I've never used it to try to save someone's life before."

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Teyla stood in the doorway to Carson's office, where his head was buried in a molecular biology journal. A cup of his jealously-guarded stash of tea sat on the desk at his elbow with a half-eaten sandwich on a plate next to it. He ignored both as he alternately read and typed notes on his computer.

After a minute, Teyla spoke. "You wished to see me, Dr. Beckett?"

He looked up. "Aye, Teyla. Please, sit." Carson gestured absently towards one of the chairs.

As Teyla did so, she looked at him solemnly. "Should you not be resting, doctor? I have heard of your latest encounter with the city's control chair."

Carson shook his head. "I'll be fine. It's the rest of the city I'm worryin' about. You know how low our medical supplies are."

Teyla nodded. She did know. Several weeks ago, she had started training in basic first aid and emergency medical skills with him. It had been Carson's idea to increase the number of personnel in the city who could handle a medical emergency. If the Wraith ever came, they would need every trained medic they could find.

Now Carson was looking annoyed. "Rodney told me that the four of ye were leaving on a trading mission. I'd like you to report back to me if there are any supplies or medical knowledge worth trading for." He'd wanted to go on the mission himself, but Elizabeth had vetoed it, not wanting to compromise the city's medical readiness.

"Is there anything specific you would like me to look for?"

"Depends on how advanced the culture is that you'll be dealing with. We really can use anything, though. At this point, we figured we would have found supplies or some sort of synthesizer here in Atlantis."

"Of course. I will inform Major Sheppard, so he will know what questions to ask our hosts."

"Good enough, love. Thank ye greatly." Then he looked down at his journal, returning to his studies.

Teyla hesitated. She knew he was worried about one of his people, but she did not know exactly what was wrong. She started to say something, to offer to help in some way, but then stopped. What could she really do? Instead, she inclined her head slightly and headed back to the gateroom to leave.

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Elizabeth and Carson stood at the rail in the gateroom, watching as the primary team prepared to move out through the Stargate. Sheppard was checking his pack and saying something to McKay, who looked indignant. Ford was trying not to laugh at them. Teyla looked up at the two figures against the rail and nodded.

Elizabeth turned to Peter Grodin and gave him the okay to dial the gate. When the wormhole opened, she called out. "All right, you have a go. Try not to get yourselves too bashed up this time!"

As the wormhole closed again, she turned to Carson. "Keep a medical team on standby. Somehow, I just don't have a good feeling about this."

"Aye. I think I know how you feel."

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All right! Everyone see that little square button at the bottom of the screen? Review, please! Feedback definitely keeps me going.


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N

**Belisse**: Sleeve? My arm is the only thing up my sleeve. (And if you believe that...)

**Amaruk**: I think the reason why I find it easy to do the humor bits is because I'm a wiseass in real life! (Plus, humor was the only way to get through residency.)

**Kate K, daffydonald**: Thanks. More to come

**Pike2**: You're lucky your plot bunnies are only jumping up and down. Mine are slapping me upside the head.

**jennamajig, nebbyj**: Yes, I freely admit that I'm running Carson ragged. But he has inner demons he needs to exorcise

I'm glad people liked the chair bit. It occurred to me that we've never really learned what happens to the user when he/she is in there

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"What the hell was that?" demanded Sheppard to no one in particular. His face had a decidedly green tinge to it. "That was one of the most disgusting things I've ever eaten! Well, since the Academy, anyway."

"I believe it was one of their delicacies," said Teyla. "It does not seem to have the same... unfortunate effect on my people."

The team was walking back towards the stargate after concluding an initial round of talks with the people of this world, who called themselves simply "The Tillers." Theirs was a thoroughly agrarian society. They cultivated an amazing variety of fruits, vegetables, and grains, and they were quite interested in learning techniques to improve crop yield. The day had gone well until the end, when the leader of the Tillers offered them a ceremonial fruit in celebration of their anticipated agreement. McKay had declined, insisting that he could smell citrus. Ford had been surveying the route back to the gate. That left Teyla and Sheppard to try the new offering. Teyla had eaten it with evident enjoyment. Sheppard had reacted... somewhat differently.

As if on cue, Sheppard staggered to a halt, then ran behind a nearby tree. Sounds of vomiting could be heard coming from his direction. He returned a few minutes later, looking only slightly better. But he pushed away Teyla's offer of water.

After a few minutes, the entire process repeated itself. This time, Teyla insisted that Sheppard take a few sips of water. "You do not wish to become dehydrated," she said in the same tone that she used when scolding him about weapons practice. "It will make things that much more complicated."

"What's complicated about it? The stuff just didn't agree with me, that's all. I'm praying to the porcelain god for relief."

"Drink!" said Teyla, wondering what the porcelain god was.

"Wow, you sounded just like Beckett when you said that," admired Ford.

"Without the brogue," McKay pointed out. "But scarily, Lieutenant Ford is correct."

They walked on. After two more episodes, Sheppard was staggering more than walking. "Gotta... stop for a minute." he finally said.

"Sir?" This from Ford.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant!" Sheppard snapped. Teyla lifted an eyebrow. "Well, I am kinda dizzy. And I'm sort of seeing spots."

"You are not fine," said Teyla firmly. "Lieutenant, how far are we from the gate?"

It was McKay who answering, looking down at one of his energy detectors. "We're close. Another kilometer, maybe."

McKay and Teyla slowly eased Sheppard to the ground. Teyla told Ford to run ahead to the gate and radio to Atlantis what had occurred. He nodded and left. The three remaining team members sat in silence that was broken only by a low groan. "Feels like my gut's on fire." Sheppard gasped. This, from him, was an admission of pure agony.

Teyla touched his forehead. "You seem to have a fever as well, Major."

Trying to break the tension, McKay cracked. "Well, no mystery as to where you're spending the night tonight."

"Great. Carson's... got enough on his plate... as it is." There was nothing Teyla or McKay could say in response to that, as they also had seen how Dr. Beckett had been working himself into exhaustion.

About ten minutes later, they heard footsteps approaching them on the path. Sheppard tensed and Teyla put a hand on her weapon, but it was only Ford returning. He nodded to McKay and Teyla. "Beckett's getting ready for the Major. Wants him there ASAP."

This time Ford and McKay supported Sheppard as Teyla took point. They moved as quickly as they could, but by the time they reached the DHD Sheppard was doubled over. "Shit!" growled Ford as he stabbed at the buttons. They went through the gate the instant after they transmitted the GDO code.

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Someone was speaking insistently through his earpiece in a British accent. It took Carson a moment to answer, as he was busy waiting for the ringing in his head to die down. Each time he'd experimented with one of the cubes, it took more out of him. Now, for the first time since sitting in the control chair, he'd been knocked out by one of them. He figured it was probably dangerous, but it was the only hope he had left to find something to help Michelle.

Carson finally tapped on his earpiece. "Peter, here I am."

There was a pause. Then, "Thank goodness." As Carson wondered how long he'd been out to get such a response, Elizabeth broke in. "We've just heard from Lieutenant Ford. Major Sheppard appears to have been poisoned by some of the native fruit. They're inbound with an ETA of about 15 minutes."

Carson swore. "Bloody hell! Once. Just once it would be nice to do a routine post-mission check. I'll even let them have a few bruises. I have never seen four people with such bad luck!" As he ranted, his hands were busy gathering supplies. He thought about it, but decided against instituting a quarantine. This sounded purely food-related.

"How many times has it been just this month?" he muttered.

Evidently it had been loud enough to activate the two-way mike, for Peter helpfully replied. "Six." Carson could hear the smirk in Peter's voice at his next words. "Pay up."

"Aye. Two teabags. Scoundrel." He moved towards the door. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, let's go!"

Ford had just stumbled through the gate when the medical team arrived in the control room. A moment later McKay and Teyla materialized carrying an agony-racked Sheppard. They gently eased him to the ground and moved out of the way. The medical team rushed in and began to work.

Carson did a quick assessment of his own. Sheppard was pale and his breath was coming in short gasps. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Carson tapped one of the medics on the shoulder. "He'll need two large bore IV's with fluids running wide open. Keep an eye on his airway, we may need to intubate if he gets any worse."

Carson then knelt down next to Sheppard. "Lad, can you be telling me what happened, now?"

"Tribal 'delicacy'. Had no idea it was so damn toxic to humans."

Carson asked Sheppard for the rest of his symptoms, noted them down. He was a little frustrated that they hadn't tried to bring a sample back, but he would make do without one. He hoped.

As they reached the infirmary, Sheppard, in a lucid moment, saw McKay's undisguised worry. No doubt McKay would vociferously deny it later, though. Sheppard grinned. "Hey, Rodney. At least it wasn't you who ate something weird this time."

It worked. As McKay prepared a retort, Carson silenced him with a look. "Colonel," he said kindly. "Shut up."

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Elizabeth walked towards the infirmary several hours later. Steel had crept into Beckett's normally easygoing manner when he'd kicked everyone out before. Elizabeth figured it would do no harm to just peek in, though.

However, she was horrified by what she saw when she did look in on Sheppard. He lay unconscious on one of the beds and was connected to more wires than she thought physically possible. A ventilator was breathing for him. Before she could stop herself, Elizabeth let out a small cry, which she quickly muffled.

Too late, though. She'd been made. Carson looked up from a readout at her and sighed. He tried to look stern but a smile played on his lips. "You're late. I expected you to try to sneak in here at least an hour ago," he said in mock reproach.

Elizabeth walked over to the still figure on the bed. "How bad is it, actually?"

"Not great, not horrible. I think it's some sort of toxin native to the soil -- better scrap the trade deal. We tried to pump his stomach when we brought him down here. He didn't tolerate it well and became very agitated. I decided to put him on the vent as a precaution. Bloody good thing I did, too. He went into anaphylactic shock not long after."

"So far I'm hearing the 'not great.' Where's the 'not terrible'?"

Carson nodded. "It looks like the swelling's going down a bit. He's sedated and chemically paralyzed for now, but we'll probably be able to pull back on that soon."

It was Elizabeth's turn to nod, and she just stood there looking at the Major for awhile. Finally, Carson laid a gentle hand on her back. "Elizabeth, neither of us can do anything for him right now. Go get some sleep. I promise I'll keep you updated." Elizabeth gave no sign she'd even heard him. "Or... I could just let you pull up a chair and wait."

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Ford aimlessly walked along one of the many balconies that surrounded the city. He tended to do that after a mission had gone bad.

He'd been doing it a lot lately.

Ford tried not to think about anything. He just walked. Placing one foot in front of the other, he let his body slowly relax out of its hair-trigger tension. That mission had almost been a serious clusterfuck. Worse, it wasn't something he could have fixed. 'Fire on the fruit on my mark!' Yeah, right.

Someone was ahead of him on the walkway. Ford smiled as he realized it was Michelle. He liked hanging out with her. They shared an interest in surfing and both played the guitar. She also had a hell of a voice. There was nothing serious going on between them now, but Ford could definitely see something evolving.

If there was time, that is.

The treatments that Beckett had tried didn't seem to be working, and both Michelle and the Doc knew it. She looked weaker and more frail by the day. Beckett, on the other hand, was driving himself like a madman trying to find a solution. He'd been the same way on Hoff, too.

Ford wasn't sure if he should disturb Michelle, but didn't want to ignore her. So he deliberately began whistling loudly (and off key) so she could hear him coming and slip away if she chose. Instead, he heard her laugh softly. "Hello, Aiden." she said. "Trying to provide a defense against the Wraith?" Then she coughed.

Ford pretended to be offended. "I'll have you know that I have perfect pitch."

"Really?"

"No."

"Screwball." Michelle coughed again, this time harder. It took her a minute or so to catch her breath. "I feel like crap."

"Dr. Beckett's a smart guy. He'll come up with something."

"I don't think so, Aiden. Short of finding a way back to Earth, there isn't much more he can do. And he's going to kill himself if he keeps trying."

"Don't talk like that. We'll find more technologically advanced people in this galaxy. Not all of them can be nutjobs like the Hoffans and the Genii. Someone will be able to help."

"Uh, huh. And how many more accidents like Major Sheppard's will we have to experience? It isn't worth it for just one person."

They stood in silence for awhile, looking out into the darkness. Michelle began to cough a third time, but this time was unable to stop. As she started to choke, Ford shook himself into action. Jabbing his earpiece, he screamed "Peter, we need medical help here NOW!"

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TBC


	8. Chapter Eight

Things had quieted down a little, so Carson allowed himself a brief rest in his office. John's vitals were projected on a monitor in the wall, and they were at least stable. Carson had learned how to take power naps during his training, and the skill was coming in handy now. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a real break, and he knew the others were worried about him.

Carson slipped into an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of failure. Mercell the Hoffan appeared, pleading with him to let his death have some meaning. The subsequent demise of thousands of other people had denied the man his wish. There were also faces of several patients who'd died during his training. He still blamed himself for either not saving them or making fatal mistakes. The last face to appear was that of his grandfather. Carson had been a new physician at the time and not fully comfortable with his diagnostic skills. He hadn't recognized diabetes in his grandfather until the man was found in a diabetic coma. His grandfather had never been quite the same after that and had died soon after.

The dream reached a point where one of his medical school professors was yelling at him to wake up and get with the program, when Carson realized the voice was real. He opened his eyes to find one of the nurses shaking him. "We just got another call from Dr. Grodin, sir. Lieutenant Ford radioed in a medical emergency, no details. A paramedic team went to the scene and they're on their way back now."

"I just had to think it was quiet around here, didn't I." Carson muttered. He stood up quickly enough to make the room spin and put out a hand to steady himself. The nurse gave him a concerned look but said nothing.

The world seemed to slow down as the paramedics rolled a gurney through the infirmary doors, followed by a frantic-looking Aiden Ford. Glancing at Elizabeth sitting next to Major Sheppard's bed, Carson gave her a quick nod. She immediately pulled Ford out of the way and sent him out of the infirmary.

From Ford's presence, Carson knew it had to be Michelle on that gurney. Even so, he was shocked at how sick she'd become so quickly. Her lips had a bluish tinge and there were flecks of dried blood at the corners of her mouth. Her breathing was being assisted with an Ambu-bag.

"Michelle?" he said softly. "Love, open your eyes for me." When she did, he quickly shone a penlight in each. Sluggish. Her gaze was panicked and her breathing becoming increasingly labored. He began listening with a stethoscope, then frowned.

The medics had established IV access en route, so Carson barked an order for IV morphine over his shoulder. As he injected it, he said soothingly, "That should help with the air hunger. It's only the minimum dose." He waited for her to nod faintly, then proceeded to finish his exam. Her lungs sounded terrible, and he could hear stridorous noises on one side. Pretty sure what he would find, Carson ordered a repeat CT scan. Once it was in process, he said to the nurse, "She probably has airway obstruction, so let's get another intubation kit ready. Who's the backup doc tonight?"

"Schwartz, sir."

Good. Steve Schwartz was the one who'd read him the riot act earlier. He was obviously a decisive man and willing to speak plainly. "Page him. Let him know what's going on and tell him to get down here as soon as he can."

The nurse left, and Carson reached up to push unruly hair out of his eyes. At this rate he would soon give Sheppard a run for his money in the mop department. He just hoped nothing further would go wrong that night.

And that's when Major Sheppard coded.

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Elizabeth paced the length of the small waiting room just outside the infirmary. She had been unceremoniously kicked out when Sheppard took a turn for the worse. At first she could hear a flurry of activity, but over the last half hour the sounds had faded. Her imagination was running wild, picturing the worst possible outcomes for both Sheppard and Michelle Donohue.

After another forty-five minutes, Carson walked in to tell her what he could. His voice was clipped as he told her that further effects of the toxin had caused the Major's heart rate to drop to dangerously low levels. They'd reversed it, but Sheppard now had a pacemaker wire to add to the collection of things sticking out of him. "I don't know, Elizabeth. I've never seen anything like this. We're reacting to each crisis, but can't seem to get ahead of this thing."

Carson told Elizabeth that she would not be allowed to return to the infirmary, and then turned away. From the doorway, she watched as he strode to a counter and picked up a small, gray cube. She was in a perfect position to see him screw up his eyes in pain and drop to the floor.

Elizabeth and Dr. Schwartz reached Carson at almost the same time. His eyes were still closed and blood trickled from one nostril. "This keeps getting better and better," Schwartz growled. As the two prepared to move Carson to one of the beds, his eyes suddenly opened, badly startling Elizabeth.

"Paper!" he snapped. "I need a piece of paper!"

Dr. Schwartz's reply was short and to the point, "Are you nuts?"

"Do it! Before I forget what I just learned."

Although Dr. Schwartz still looked like he wanted to page Kate Heightmeyer, he handed over a blank sheet of paper. Carson quickly sketched two molecules. "There. The one on the left's the toxin, and the one on the right should be an antidote. It doesn't look too complex, thank God."

Carson grew annoyed as the two just stood there and looked at him. "What? You read Zalenka's report. The cubes connect the user directly to the medical database. I'm not just pullin' this out of thin air."

"It's not your accuracy or dedication we're questioning," Elizabeth began.

"It's your pigheadedness!" Schwartz broke in. "Look at you. You're practically falling off your feet to begin with, then you go ahead and use the damn cube. I'm not stupid, Carson. I've seen the way it affects you."

"I had nae idea you were keeping tabs on me," Carson said coldly.

"It's not a question of keeping tabs on you! I busted my butt to get on this mission and work with you. I can't do that if you work yourself to death!"

Carson was regretting his earlier enthusiasm about the other physician. "In case you hadn't noticed, son, there are two critically ill patients under my care here!"

"Under our care. You picked good people for the medical staff. Let us prove it."

Elizabeth decided it was time to step in. "He's right. You need to rest for at least 12 hours, if not longer." She picked up the drawing and handed it to Dr. Schwartz. "You already did most of the work. These guys can handle the rest." When Carson still hesitated, she lowered her voice. "I don't want to undermine your authority in front of your staff, but I'll make it an order if I have to. I need you in top shape if any other disasters happen."

Carson couldn't think of a suitable response. He also had the faintest glimmer of an idea that would let him stay useful even while supposedly resting. He feigned resignation, all the while maneuvering so that no one could see him palm the cube. "Fine. Twelve hours and not a bloody minute more!"

Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest. "In your quarters, not your office."

"All right already!" He turned to Schwartz. "You're in charge, laddie. If you need anything..."

Elizabeth interrupted. "I'm sure Dr. Schwartz will have everything under control, but if he needs help he can ask some of the other doctors on call." She put an arm around Carson's shoulder and steered him towards the infirmary door.

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After not-so-subtly making sure that Carson actually reached his intended destination, Elizabeth walked briskly towards Zelenka's lab. She needed to know if he'd found out anything more about the cubes. Hopefully the man was still awake.

She needn't have worried. The rest of the engineers had left, but Zelenka was still plugging away. When this crisis was over, she was going to speak to all of them, Sheppard included, about setting appropriate limits. But for now she was grateful.

Zelenka looked at her in surprise. "Dr. Weir, what are you doing here this time of night?" Then, realizing that she could ask him the same question, he added, "Not that this is a bad time."

"Radek, have you been able to discover anything more about Carson's cubes? I'm starting to think they're dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

Elizabeth explained what had been happening. Zelenka frowned. "That does not sound so good." He tapped on his keyboard and pulled up a file. He quickly scrolled down the screen, then swore. "I should have seen this earlier. Something was bothering me. I did not realize from where the cube draws power. Otupený! It draws power directly from the user." He pointed to a graph. "That's what that line indicates. And it fits with what you say happened to Dr. Beckett."

Elizabeth didn't know how, but she suddenly had a sinking feeling that Carson wasn't going to simply stay in his quarters and sleep. With a quick thank-you to Zelenka, she ran out of the lab and pelted back down to the infirmary.

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After making sure that no one was around to see him, Carson slipped into the chair room. So far he'd come up with nothing useful for Michelle. But maybe if he used the chair again to boost his capacity, he'd find something he missed earlier. He had never before been able to access information in such minute detail as he had with the molecules. In theory, the chair should make him that much more accurate.

Once again he sat back and felt the chair come to life around him. As he merged his awareness with the city, the door to the room slid open. Elizabeth and a medical team rushed in. "Carson, no!" she yelled.

He closed his eyes and accessed the cube anyway. He realized too late that he'd pushed himself one step too far. He felt his body convulse and dimly heard someone shouting for a crash cart. Then there was nothing.

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When Carson next opened his eyes he was surrounded by darkness. As far as he could tell his eyes were still working, but there was nothing to see. He wasn't sure where he was, and couldn't even feel the surface on which he was lying.

After what seemed like a long time had passed, he noticed a glimmer of light in the distance. Slowly it resolved itself into a blonde woman in a white cloak. He gasped as he realized who it was, someone he'd never thought to see again.

"Perna?"

TBC

_Only two more chapters to go, guys!_


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N

**nebbyj**: Of course! I'm an equal opportunity whumper. :-)

**tko**: Don't worry about Dr. Schwartz. He's got a thick skin.

**jennamagig**: He's pushing himself to the ultimate, all right.

**Belisse**: I should probably be disturbed that I whump people so hard, but I'm not! So there.

**Out of Phase**: I believe the phrase is, "It's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better." :-)

**Emma**: Between Carson, John, and Rodney, I bet Elizabeth is going nuts.

**Pike2**: Run away! Run away! (I also sense a bit of South Park, there.)

**MandyK**: Not sure how I came up with that line, but it's definitely one of my favs.

**potterfan**: I don't think there's going to be a direct sequel to this one per se, but I will definitely be returning to this version of Atlantis again. As for Weir and Sheppard, I decided to focus on Carson in this story. A follow-up "ship" story is a definite possibility.

**daffydonald**: Dude, I'm writing as fast as I can! Gotta keep up the day job, too. ;-)

**Espiritu**: I don't think he was thinking. Purely visceral reaction

All right. This one was actually pretty hard to write, and I'm not sure how it came out. It probably would sound better if I had written it while stoned, but as it is I was only massively sleep-deprived. :-) Let me know if it works for you.

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"Perna?"

The woman smiled serenely. "This is the form your mind has chosen for me. Others have seen me differently." For just a moment, Carson saw a brown-haired woman in a conservative blue suit, then the same woman in a waitress' uniform. Then she appeared as Perna again.

"Uh, this may be a stupid question, but who are you?"

"I am."

Carson decided he was hallucinating. "You... are," he said slowly. When she did not respond, he exhaled loudly. "Let's try something a little easier, shall we? Where are we?"

The woman smiled again, as if she knew how frustrated he was becoming. "We are in between steps on the path."

Easier? Not so much. Carson snapped, "Can't ye talk in straight sentences? And don't give me some nonsense like 'Understanding comes slowly.'"

She remained silent again. After fidgeting for a moment, he said, "Well?"

"You instructed me not to say it."

Carson silently counted to ten. One would think that after dealing with Rodney, a Zen-like apparition would be nothing. One would be wrong, though. "Look, Perna --can I call ye Perna?-- I have to get back to my work. I have two friends depending on me."

Perna looked at him sadly. "Perhaps you need to lay down your burden for a little while."

A spark of recognition glimmered in Carson's mind for a moment, then slipped away. "But we're wasting time here!" he cried.

"Time cannot be wasted. Its passage can only be accepted or fought."

"Right! I give up. I have no clue what you're talking about. Can you explain, in words of one syllable, what the devil you mean?"

"Only when there is understanding can the healing begin. And the beginning of healing is hardest."

Carson seized on a word he could comprehend. "Healing! Michelle and John need healing. They could be dying! Me, I'm fine."

The being he saw as Perna suddenly morphed into Teyla. "Healing is not possible if the need is not understood," she said in what Carson thought of as her "Earth-mother" voice.

"Aye! I understand, all right," he said bitterly. "I understand that they're just lying there while you and I have a wee chat. I understand that I'm too weak and stupid to help them!"

"Your conclusion does not follow from the antecedent."

Carson gave a short laugh. "No? What else would you call it? I was just sent to bed like a schoolboy, and then collapsed in the control chair. My God, I've got to do something!"

"Why?"

"They're my friends, woman!" he yelled, horrified.

"I sense there is more." The woman morphed back into Perna.

Carson was suddenly aware of his body again, and was able to see. He and Perna were in the middle of a Highland meadow. Rocky crags rose in the distance, and sheep grazed contentedly around them. He suddenly felt worn out, and sat down on a large rock with a sigh. The scene reminded him so much of home that his heart ached. "Something else... Aye. Maybe it will finally make up for everything I've done."

Perna sat on the rock next to him. "What have you done to deserve a death sentence?"

Carson gave another little laugh. Now he knew he had to be hallucinating. "Oh, I'm dead, am I? Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse." He sat there brooding for a long time. "If you were really the woman you look like, you'd know," he whispered.

"Enlightenment is something for which all beings strive."

Emotions that had been pent-up for a long time suddenly exploded. "Well! Where to start? Maybe with the fact that I'm one of the greatest mass murderers in the history of my planet. I created a drug that killed thousands, half of all those who took it! Or maybe with the fact that I used a dying man, because he begged me to, despite knowin' that he'd likely suffer. Oh, and let's not forget the time I came this close to cheerfully blowing Major Sheppard and General O'Neill out of the sky! Take your pick!" Carson ran down, then shook his head. "Bloody hell, I'm startin' to sound like Rodney," he muttered.

Perna watched cloud shadows move across the meadow. "And of course you forced everyone to take the drug. Just like you held a gun to the head of the dying man."

Unbidden, Carson recalled the scene in front of the Wraith's cage on Hoff. Merell had removed his robe and was heading into the cage. He had grabbed Merell's wrist in a desperate grip. "You don't have to do this," he'd pleaded.

"No. But they couldn't have known what they were getting into!"

"To deprive someone of free will, even for the most noble of reasons, does not serve their interests."

Carson sat for a minute. A lamb had wandered over and he gently stroked its fur. It butted his hand when he tried to stop."Okay. Even if I accept that, which I'm not sure I do, what about the drone weapon? Obviously part of me wanted that to happen, or it wouldn't have been so blasted hard to shut down."

"Empathy is a double-edged sword."

"Lass, that's coming from way, way out in left field."

"In understanding the feelings of others, your own become more powerful."

"You're blamin' this on my patients?"

"You see people at their best and their worst, and care passionately about both. To internalize and reflect their feelings is the mark of a true healer."

Carson blushed a little at the compliment. "It's hard not to be affected by people. But given the chance, my mind chose destruction. Why?"

"It is a question often asked, but seldom answered. The light and the dark are inseparable. It is a wise man who acknowledges this and is vigilant."

He nodded. Despite all the good he knew he'd done for people, he also knew that he had his demons. For everyone's good, he would have to exorcise them. Suddenly, the nagging sense of familiarity that had been in the back of his mind burst into realization. "I think I'm knowin' who you are, now! I've read the reports. Can you help them, John and Michelle? If not to recover, then to... Ascend?"

"Each follows his own path in the end. You cannot save everyone."

Carson knew it for truth. He would continue to lose patients from time to time. But he would learn from each one, and maybe that would be salvation enough.

"Well, then. Am I supposed to Ascend? Is that why you're here?"

The being who had taken the form of Perna smiled. "Your journey on this part of your path is not yet complete. But I think we will meet again."

The meadow disappeared, replaced by a view of the infirmary ceiling. Carson felt pain in his chest where defibrillator paddles had been applied. He looked around to find himself connected to machines, with every conscious person in the room staring at him. John and Michelle still looked deathly ill. For a long while nothing could be heard in the roombut the beeping of a heart monitor, the hissing of a ventilator, and the sound of a man weeping.

TBC


	10. Epilogue

_The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want_

_He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;_

_He leadeth me beside the still waters;_

_He restoreth my soul;_

_He leadeth me in straight paths for his name's sake;_

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;_

_For Thou art with me;_

_Thy rod and Thy staff comfort me;_

_Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;_

_Thou anointeth me with oil;_

_My cup runneth over;_

_For surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; _

_and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever._

- Psalm 23

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One week later

The small crowd on the balcony began to drift apart. The last time this particular balcony had been used was a celebration, when it had finally sunk in that the city had not drowned and that everyone other than Colonel Sumner had escaped the Wraith, at least that time. The mood today was somber, though, as befit the occasion.

Elizabeth closed the small Bible she had read from and put it in a uniform pocket. She hugged herself as the wind began to blow and watched her people in their grief. For once, Rodney had made no obnoxious comments about religion. John and Teyla stood together in silence, John unconsciously rubbing the spot on his neck where the Wraith-bug had attached. Michelle had cared for him well while he was recuperating. Ford had stared out over the ocean during the entire service, his jaw clenched.

Despite all the efforts of the infirmary staff, Michelle Donohue had died three days earlier. The cancer had spread to her chest and grew rapidly, cutting off her ability to breathe. Dr. Schwartz had told Elizabeth of the likely outcome shortly after Carson's collapse. Elizabeth refused to think about how close they'd come to losing two people that night.

Well, three actually, counting John. Carson's last cube-derived inspiration had worked, but only after several more hours of danger for John. John still looked weak, and Elizabeth didn't miss the way he surreptitiously leaned on Rodney as they walked away.

The infirmary staff had clumped together during the funeral, but most of them left quickly. In minutes, the only ones left on the balcony were herself and Carson, who was leaning on one of the railings and looking down into the water.

Thinking of what he had gone through still made Elizabeth sick to her stomach. The two of them had talked for a long time while he was recovering, and he had haltingly told her of his experience while clinically dead. It had only been for a few minutes, but even that was too long.

Elizabeth still couldn't believe the burden of guilt Carson had carried around. He always had a cheerful manner (except sometimes when dealing with Rodney!), and focused his entire attention on whomever he was with. It was easy to forget that he had been hurt and was also under a great deal of stress.

Well, Elizabeth wasn't going to forget anymore. She walked to the railing next to him and put a hand on his arm. "How are you doing, really? Are you okay?"

"No." he admitted honestly. "But I will be."

Elizabeth thought that he was already looking better physically. One week ago Carson had looked like a ghost. He had been gaunt and pale, with bloodshot eyes. After a week of food and enforced rest (Dr. Schwartz had insisted on daily check-ups, but otherwise had barred Carson from the infirmary), his appearance was closer to normal.

Speaking of the good doctor... Elizabeth gently teased, "Is Schwartz still talking to you these days?" Schwartz had assumed Carson's care, and the two of them had argued almost constantly.

That earned a small but genuine smile from Carson. "Aye, he'd better be! I've officially made him my "second in command", so to speak. Anyone who can deal with me as a patient deserves something!"

Elizabeth laughed softly. It was a good choice. Despite the head butting, the two appeared to work well together. And a division of labor could only help.

The two stood in companionable silence for awhile. In the background Kavanagh could be heard whining about something. Peter, who'd attended the funeral and was in no mood for any crap, explained in clipped, precise tones exactly what Kavanagh could go do with himself. There was at least a semblance of normalcy in the midst of chaos.

"Did Zalenka tell you what he found?" Elizabeth finally asked.

"Aye. Probably why we found the things next to a sign saying 'in case of emergency'." Zalenka had come up to him one night in the mess hall, horrified that he had almost not made his discovery in time. Carson had insisted that the Czech have dinner with him, reassuring Zalenka that he was grateful that the discovery had been made at all.

Now that Carson thought about it, he realized that he hadn't eaten alone the entire week. Teyla and some of the Athosians joined him for breakfast one morning. Both together and separately, Rodney and John had bantered, bickered, and all-around driven him crazy. The biggest surprise came when Bates had beckoned him over one evening, ostensibly to discuss plans for fitness training. Carson decided he liked the young security chief with the bone-dry sense of humor, despite the dislike other members of the crew had taken to him.

As if reading his mind, Elizabeth said, "The news traveled fasts after you "died." You'll be a popular man for awhile as everyone reassures themselves that you're still around." People were also offering moral support, of course, each in his or her own way.

Carson abruptly changed the subject. Hesitant once again, he said, "Look, Elizabeth. I'd appreciate it if, you know, ya didn't tell anyone about what I told you. I'd hate for folks to know the CMO was seein' visions. Might make them a wee bit nervous."

Elizabeth pulled Carson around to face her. "I won't. But for God's sake, Carson, you pushed yourself literally to death to try to save a patient! People here are just happy to know they've got someone who cares about them that much. But you can never do something like that again!"

In unspoken agreement, they pushed away from the railing and began to walk along the path that ringed the outside of the city. After awhile, Elizabeth asked, "Are you familiar with the myth of Asclepius?"

"Greek healer, used snakes, possibly the origin of the symbol of medicine?"

"Only partially true. We had to learn about him in a philosophy class I took. He was supposedly the son of the Greek god Apollo and an incredibly skilled healer. People came from far and wide hoping for even the tiniest bit of his attention. Some say that his mere touch could heal."

"I can see where that would be a useful ability."

Elizabeth continued. "One day, a grieving man brought his extremely sick child to Asclepius. By the time they arrived, though, the child was beyond help. According to the myth, Asclepius found a spark deep within himself that allowed him to bring the child back to life. Zeus, the father of all the gods, was so angry that someone had usurped his power over life and death that he struck Asclepius down on the spot. Afterwards, Zeus was sorry, so he raised Asclepius and made him the god of medicine and healing."

"Raising the dead is another ability that I'd love to have," Carson said sadly. "Michelle was a good friend."

"I know. But you're missing the point here. The point is that there's only so much that a man can do, and pushing beyond that can have dire consequences. You saw that yourself firsthand." Echoing Oma Desala, she said, "There are some people you just can't save."

Carson continued to argue. "But in the end Asclepius was rewarded," he said, his voice almost pleading. "He became a god."

They'd arrived at a door back into the city. "But he had to die in order to get there. And he stayed dead, at least for awhile. Atlantis can't afford to lose its Chief Medical Officer. And I don't want to lose another good friend." Elizabeth briefly hugged Carson, then was gone.

Carson knew she was right. But the part of him that was both physician and scientist rebelled at giving anything less than everything he had. And despite Oma's counsel, he still abhorred the darkness that he knew was part of him. However, he was finally willing to believe that redemption was possible. And he knew that he had plenty of friends to help him along the way.

**FIN**

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A/N

**Out of Phase, Jenna**: Oma Desala it is. ("Alex, I'll take ascended beings for $200.")

**Cryogenie**: Here, have a box of tissues. hugs

**tko**: Err... um... Sorry?

**Rowana, potterfan**: As he said, Carson isn't totally fine, but he'll get there. And he'll have lots of help from his friends.

**Emma**: That is an excellent point about the lamb. Especially given the theme of redemption in this story. I actually wasn't consciously thinking about that when I put the lamb in, but it fits.

**Belisse, nebbyJ**: The last paragraph of Chapter 9 was the first thing in my head when I started the story. Everything was building up towards this. And if I was able to make it an evil cliffhanger, even better.. . ;-)

**pike2**: Now that's an image I won't soon forget. ("Hello, Domino's, how may I help you?" "We seek nourishment that is round like the cycle of life... with pepperoni and mushrooms.")

And that, my friends, is the end of my first long fanfic. Hope you liked it, and hopefully I managed to bring things around full circle. I know I said earlier that I don't plan on any sequels to this, but I realize I've left some loose ends, in particular Ford's reaction to everything. There's probably at least one or two related stories in here, plus all the rest that are bubbling up in my head!

Thanks again to all the reviewers. Peace.


End file.
